


The Rut

by lola381pce



Series: Five by Five [2]
Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha Phil Coulson, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, BAMF Clint Barton, BAMF Nick Fury, BAMF Phil Coulson, Beating, Canon-Typical Violence, Clint/Coulson Trope Bingo, Consent, Deaf Character, Deaf Clint Barton, Dubious Ethics, Dubious Science, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Goons of the Week, Implied/Referenced Torture, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Medical Experimentation, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Omega Clint Barton, References to Knotting, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rutting, Scenting, Science Experiments, Sexual Content, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Torture, Unethical Experimentation, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-05 07:14:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6694756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lola381pce/pseuds/lola381pce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For years Coulson wanted it to happen. But not like this. Not against his will or Barton’s. But if he couldn’t hold out, if he couldn’t keep a reign on his need to satisfy the most basic of alpha urges, the need to Rut, they maybe forced into a situation they could never recover from...and Coulson would never forgive himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've put in as many tags as I can think of. If I have missed anything you believe might be a trigger please let me know.
> 
> This wouldn't usually be a multi-chaper fic but I've done it this time to be able to add a warning note to the beginning of any chapter where I think it's needed.
> 
> 'Choose Not to use Archive Warnings' has been deliberately selected as I think the tags are better and more relevant. 
> 
> This is a dark Clint/Coulson fic...for the most part.
> 
> Hope you enjoy. As always the characters are not mine but belong to Marvel Studios - I'm just taking them out to play for a while.

 

The suit crowded the woman in the blue lab coat as he attempted to read the results on her tablet; it could have been Klingon for all he could understand of it. Trying to hide the fact he wasn’t fluent in science he asked in a bored tone, “So what do we have?”

“An alpha and an omega,” the scientist replied with a smirk.  Although the two men they had in their custody had fallen into their laps by complete accident, they couldn’t have planned it any better. They were perfect for the next phase of the experiment. The alpha was the one they needed primarily but the omega would perhaps prove useful later depending on the initial results with older male.

“Wonderful! Is the modified serum ready?”

“Of course!” Although she managed to refrain from calling him an asshole, she didn’t bother to keep the annoyance from her voice. The scientist was insulted even though she was used to this type of bullshit from her masters’ lackeys. Sadly however, this suit was too much of an arrogant fool to realise her anger was directed it at him.

“Then let’s bring in contestant number one.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some descriptions of earlier violence.

Semi-naked, hooded and bound, Coulson was dragged unceremoniously from the cold, dank cell he’d been thrown into several hours before. He made himself as heavy as possible and groaned loudly as he was hauled along the corridor, his bare feet becoming abraded and raw as they scraped across the rough surface of the ground. And while his face and the rest of his body really _did_ ache from the recent beating he’d received at the hands of his captors, it was always better to make them think things were worse than they actually were. Hopefully it would make them underestimate him at some point and _that_ he could use to his advantage. 

He had refused to give them any information as they struck him time and again, the dull thuds against his skin becoming almost rhythmic in their regularity but no less painful. The blood had flowed freely from the cut above his right eye and his on left cheekbone; both had been opened early on and had stubbornly refused to stop bleeding ever since, that damned Achilles brow of his in particular. His ribs throbbed constantly but he didn’t think anything was broken; the beating had been too controlled - as if to subdue him, show him they were in charge - rather than cause any serious damage. As for his stomach muscles and kidneys, they screamed every time he moved adding to the cacophony of pain in his head but again he didn’t believe there was any internal bleeding. He would, however, probably be pissing blood for the next week at least...should he survive, of course. Awesome! And boy had _he_ lowered his expectations.

Unfortunately the lack of information had worked both ways so far. He still had no idea who his captors were, if they had Barton or what fate he had suffered. Hopefully they'd get too confident and someone would screw up enough to let slip what had happened to him. But for now, annoyingly, they were being far too professional, not speaking in his presence unless it was to demand answers to their questions. It was no wonder S.H.I.E.L.D. had disturbingly little information on the group other than it was believed they were behind the recent disappearance of several alpha/omega pairs in the city including the two agents originally sent to investigate. Coulson could only hope the archer was having better luck.

His guards dropped him into a seat in what he guessed to be another interrogation room. For a brief moment he was untied allowing him the opportunity to put up a token resistance, just enough to receive another painful blow to the ribs giving weight to the illusion that the guards had him under control. Hands pressed down on his shoulders and arms as he was held in place. He could sense there were at least four people in the room along with him. On a good day he would hardly have broken a sweat taking them out but now was not the time to try and escape, nor could it be considered a good day all things considered. He wasn't going anywhere until he'd gathered some useful intel and he sure as hell wasn't leaving without his...without Barton.

Usually for the senior agent, this would have been a reasonable conclusion to make, but on this occasion it was a decision he may very well have cause to regret especially where it concerned the archer.

Within a few seconds his wrists were tethered to the wooden arms of the seat and his ankles to the legs with plastic ties. The hood remained in place. After a short period the door opened and closed and a new person entered the room, a woman by her scent. Like those before her, she didn’t speak and attended to her tasks with the minimum of fuss.

With no warning, the hood was abruptly removed. Coulson screwed up his face and closed his eyes before relaxing and blinking several times as he adjusted to the bright light. Still no-one spoke. Not him, not his captors. He sat impassively while the woman moved around him attaching electrodes to various points on his head, neck and chest presumably to monitor electrical impulses to his responses during questioning. Bit of a moot point; he had no intention of saying anything.

When she was finished, she nodded to the men behind him and one of them moved in to assist her. Roughly, his suit pants were unfastened and pulled apart. Then, following a particularly effective jab to his kidney to make him move, they were dragged down to his ankles along with his underwear giving the woman access to Coulson’s genitals. Additional electrodes were attached to his cock and balls. Fuck! He’d suffered electric shock torture before and although his stomach churned at the thought of it, Coulson forced himself not to struggle. There were very few things that were as painful as jolts of electricity passing through your body, especially through your balls but fuck them if he was going to show it.

Having steeled himself against the thought of the torture that was likely to follow, he tried not to breathe a sigh of relief when he saw these electrodes were the same as the others - for monitoring not for inflicting pain. Although now it occurred to him it was a damned curious place to put them.

The woman's eyes caught his as she completed her task and it gave him no small measure of satisfaction to see her blush furiously as she attached the last one to his dick. He raised eyebrows and a small smirk passed over his lips at her discomfort. He knew he was more than adequate in that department...now so did she. She glared at him as she stood obviously annoyed but whether it was with him or herself he wasn't quite sure.

Moments later, he felt a cold swab being wiped across his neck followed by the sting of a needle and a burning sensation running through his veins. This time Coulson couldn’t control the flinch causing him to pull at this bindings. He’d been expecting further interrogation but not this. Not that it would do them any good. Truth serums tended not to work on him. At least not with any particular effectiveness. For some reason he usually had an adverse reaction to them and it was difficult to talk while you were puking your guts up. His captors tended to give up after an hour or so of him heaving over their boots.

There was movement behind him and apparently finished, the group departed leaving him on his own facing a video camera. Wonderful! Naked, bruised and bleeding. Not his finest look for posterity but to each their own. They’d still get nothing from him. He closed his eyes and waited.


	3. Chapter 3

The scientist joined the suit in a room with a bank of monitors, each one containing different information and views of the prisoner. She sat in her chair and fired up her tablet again gazing between it and the various monitors in front of her. Baseline readings were already on screen and she tapped away on her tablet nodding as the information was downloaded to it.

“How long?” the suit asked unhappy at being ignored.

The scientist continued setting up the equipment but paused long enough to snap, “As long as it takes.”

It was hardly a satisfactory response but it was all the suit was getting from her. She was still annoyed about showing her emotions in front of the prisoner as she readied him for the experiment. However she found herself licking her lips as she caught sight of him on the monitors again. Even bloodied and bruised, or maybe because of it, he was an impressive alpha. She was a beta herself and could easily sense the power emanating from him…and apparently react to it as she felt a damp heat spread between her legs.

The suit looked at her sharply for a second then shrivelled back in his seat at her withering gaze. She may not be an alpha but she _was_ a high placed beta and showed no fear of him even though he'd been sent by her masters to observe. He too was a beta, well below her on the food chain however and she was quite happy to let him know it.

Getting her mind back on track, she checked the monitor readings again. Once she was satisfied everything was ready she sat back and waited.

A short time later the first new readings from the prisoner started to appear on the screens; elevated temperature, a spike in blood pressure, slightly increased heart rate and a raise in his dominant alpha levels. Nothing major as yet but worth noting. As the minutes ticked by there were no further changes which was interesting in itself.

Around fifteen minutes in, the suit beside her was fidgeting in his chair like a restless child. He didn't recall it taking this long before and wondered if the supposedly “improved” serum was any better at all. He jumped when several monitors beeped and chirped. A variance in the readings from before appeared on the monitors; all four were steadily increasing.

The scientist flicked her eyes to the screens containing images of the prisoner and observed that his skin was starting to flush, his nostrils were slightly flared and his breathing was becoming laboured. A light sheen of sweat was appearing on his face and neck. He blinked his eyes several times and licked his lips. His cock, which had been resting in a flaccid state against his thigh, was beginning to lengthen and fill out, the knot becoming more prominent. She nodded with satisfaction. Excellent. The drug was working as anticipated.

In the other room, Coulson was starting to feel uncomfortable. This wasn't like any truth serum he’d had before. He didn't recall having this type of reaction, especially not the beginnings of a hard-on. Well, not quite true. His dick had voluntarily sprung to life on a few previous occasions under interrogation but the rest was new. The rise in temperature, the sweating, the increase in heart rate and a keen sense of smell; it was almost as though he was going into a rut.

Coulson’s breath caught when he realised that's _exactly_ what was happening. They'd injected him with something to bring on a rut. No. No. No. No. NO! He couldn't let that happen. He couldn't let them make him lose control like that. He'd _never_ lost control during a cycle. Never.

He did everything to ensure he wasn’t in the field when it was due to occur and although he hated it, as he had no mate and therefore was not bonded, he occasionally made use of the services of a S.H.I.E.L.D. approved agency to help him through his cycle. If he _had_ to be on active duty, he would take suppressants to allow him to be effective. He knew his rut wasn't due for another month. He also knew this one would be intense; he'd been in the field for the last few.

He had to fight it. He had to stop this from happening. He dropped his head forward and began to take deep breaths, willing his body under control. Gradually, the fluctuating readings began to stabilise.

The suit smirked. “Apparently your “ _new improved_ ” serum is less effective than the others.”

The scientist was uncertain if she was more annoyed at his sneering tone or his use of air quotes. Either way she didn’t show it other than giving him another glare. Right now she had more important things to worry about than rising to his bait. She checked the dosage and it should be more than enough to put him into full rut by now but something was stopping it...wait. _He_ was stopping it. He was fighting the serum. Well, well.

“What’s going on?” the suit demanded, finally finding his balls again.

“He’s resisting,” she responded unable to keep the astonishment from her voice.

“Then give him more.”

“Don’t be a damned fool.”

The suit flinched at her tone. Determined not to show any more weakness he demanded, “You must have miscalculated. I’m telling you to give him more.”

“The only thing I miscalculated is your stupidity. The dosage is correct. To change it at this stage would give us false readings. _He’s_ the uncertainty factor here not the serum.”

Once again the monitors began to beep but this time it seemed to be with more urgency. Temperature, heart rate and blood pressure had all increased exponentially but his alpha levels were off the chart. The monitor’s alarm shrieked.

“What’s going on? What’s happening? Tell me,” the lackey hissed fearfully.

“It would appear the more he fights it, the more the serum responds. It’s beginning to flood his system.”

The scientist kept her gaze on the bank of screens in front of her. The prisoner was drenched with sweat, the odd drop running down his forehead and temples following the contours of his face before dripping off the end of his nose or chin. His shoulders and torso shone with it and the wiry hair of his chest was flattened to his skin. A shallow pool had gathered in the hollow of his throat.

His head bowed further forward as his chest rose up and down with shallow, panting breaths and then...nothing. The monitors ceased their screaming and a terrifying calm settled over the prisoner. The sudden silence was deafening.

Slowly he raised his head. His eyes dark and hooded, his jaw muscles tightly clenched, his mouth turned down as he glared at the camera from under his brow. Both the scientist and the suit flinched under the murderous look on his face. The muscles and cords of his neck and shoulders began to tense while his powerful forearms strained as he clenched his fists and began to pull at his tethers.

“He can’t get loose, can he?” the suit whispered.

The lack of immediate answer was somewhat disconcerting as the scientist considered that very eventuality but at last she answered, “No. The ties are very...durable.”

And they were. It was the prisoner ripping the arm off the seat frame that successfully put the shits up the suit. Immediately, the scientist hit the alarm button and seconds before the prisoner wrenched his other arm free, the door to the interrogation room flew open and two guards entered to calmly shoot him twice in the back.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: there is an attempt at rape in this chapter along with some violence.

Barton cracked his eyes open slowly just enough to let him see if he was alone in the room. Cell. Whatever. He was but he spotted two cameras from his position on the floor where he was tightly bound at the wrists and ankles, and guessed correctly there were probably more he couldn’t see. 

He closed his eyes again managing to stifle a groan that threatened to escape. Everything hurt; from his head to his feet. Although they’d worked him over pretty thoroughly he was fairly certain nothing was broken, including his fingers. He was always pissed off, not to mentioned worried, when the goons of the week broke or dislocated his fingers. Nowadays he had a lot of pain in them, not enough to prevent him from using his bow but enough to give him a fair amount of discomfort afterwards. 

No-one knew. Well. He said no-one but Coulson or Tasha always managed to push some anti-inflammatory painkillers into his hands or his pocket when he came off mission even if he hadn’t been injured. Fucking sneaky ninja superspies. And occasionally, when it was particularly bad, Coulson would gently massage his hands until the pain lessened and the feeling came back. He had strong, competent fingers that could take Clint's mind off the pain and dim it to something bearable. Unfortunately it usually left him needing a cold shower too but fuck, it was worth it.

Barton felt a pang in his chest. He desperately hoped Coulson was okay. He wasn’t a big fan of being captured and tortured but he hated it more when it happened to his teammates or his handler. Especially his handler. Even knowing Coulson was a seasoned field agent himself, it still worried the hell out of Clint when the older man was taken. After all these years they had become friends, _good_ friends. But he never stopped hoping that one day…

Ah fuck! Whatever. Never gonna happen. He’d made his peace with it a long time ago, mostly. But when he was beat up or feeling shitty, the thought of being something more to the Senior Agent would enter his head unbidden and unwanted. Sometimes it gave him comfort, sometimes it just made him miserable as fuck. Well hi miserable as fuck. And how are you today?

His body tensed as the door to his room began to open. Cell. Whatever. Guess they were bored again and it was time to take out the human punch bag for another round or two. At least they'd returned his aids after the last beating. Hopefully they'd do the same this time. Fuck! The things you considered to be positive act when you're about to have the shit knocked out of you.

“Hey, bitch.”

Barton’s eyes snapped open. Fuck! Not good. Not good at all.

“Don’t be shy, sweetheart. Figured you’d be lonely and I need a fuck so hey...win/win.”

As the voice got closer, Barton held his position until he sensed the alpha was near enough and low enough, then he spun round on his side to kick the other man on his jaw with both feet as hard as he could. The blow knocked the alpha to the floor a few feet away.

The two others that accompanied Barton’s would-be rapist ran to his aid helping up. Furious he pushed them away and snarled at the archer who’d managed to right himself and butt shuffle to the corner of the room ignoring the waves of pain it sent through him.

“You BITCH!” the alpha bellowed as he stalked slowly towards the injured man on the floor. “You fucking bitch! I was gonna treat you nice. Get lubed up before I fucked you but now I’m just gonna take you dry. Listen to you scream on my cock instead.”

Barton’s heart was thumping in his chest. He could take the beatings, he could take the torture but not this. Never this. He kicked out at the other man as he neared him, happy when his feet made contact a couple of times causing the alpha to grunt in pain.

“The fuck you two waitin’ for? Git over here an’ gimme a hand.”

Barton continued to kick hard but he was no match for three men, one of whom was an enraged alpha, when he was bound like this but it didn’t mean he was giving up without a fight. He headbutted one of them when he got too close and bit another one but eventually between the three of them, they forced him into a position on his knees where the alpha could fuck him from behind.

Barton yelled and struggled but he could do nothing. They had him.


	5. Chapter 5

This was getting ridiculous not to mention embarrassing. She was very close to just shooting the prisoner and having done with it but the scientist in her was determined to see what it would take to break him. It was now a matter of pride.

After he’d been put down with tranquillizer darts, the guards had transferred Coulson to another cell where the surveillance camera feeds had been activated and he’d been watched every moment since he came to again. The electrodes had been carefully removed from his body - they would be useless now - but several of the cameras were equipped with thermal imaging and diagnostics capability allowing the scientist to continue to monitor how strong his urges were with the drug coursing through him.

At one point an omega experiencing a heat had been put in with him, dripping with slick at his scent, begging the alpha to fuck him. Obviously in pain from holding back his impulses, Coulson still managed to restrain himself. His instinct to rut should have taken over by now. This was an omega ready and begging for his knot but the prisoner wouldn’t do it. Apparently he refused to break some fucked up code he seemed to have. It was beginning to harm the experiment and _that_ the scientist couldn’t, _wouldn’t_ have. Any other alpha would have taken what they wanted and satisfied themselves by now; she didn’t know whether to be impressed or disgusted.

The scientist cursed herself long and loud inside her head. It was time to use the omega he came here with. She had no idea if they were paired but she very much doubted he could resist a familiar face. If need be they’d force the omega into heat like the others but with the alpha levels the older man was displaying she doubted it would be required.

She looked towards one of the guards “Get the omega we found at the same time. Put him in with him.”

The suit smirked. He’s was enjoying all these failures taking careful notes in his head for his report. He knew the scientist was usually good at this sort of thing or his superiors would never have kept her for this long but she’d crossed him too many times now, especially today, and he’d make certain they learned of her disrespect towards him and a few other things too.


	6. Chapter 6

 

“The  _ fuck _ are you doing?”

The alpha, red-faced with exertion and bruised from Barton’s defence of himself, turned to look at the men standing in the doorway - one of the senior guards flanked by two others. Fuck! He hadn’t even be able to get his dick inside the squirming bitch yet.

The senior guard shook his head in disgust. “Get up and zip up. You’re a fucking disgrace. And you two can get the fuck out of my sight as well.”

The alpha’s two associates let go of the prisoner and slunk out of the cell with no comment leaving their companion to pull himself together. They knew they would all be disciplined later and were already trying to think of some way they could wriggle out of it. Well out of the worst of it at least.

Appearing unconcerned, the alpha on the floor took his time pulling up his pants and fastening his zipper. Before he stood he slapped Barton hard on the bare ass having managed to tear his cargoes off in the struggle, and leaned over to whisper in his ear, “Be seein’ ya later, bitch. You and me’ve got some unfinished business.”

He glared at the senior guard and spat on his boots as he pushed his way out of the room. The other man snorted. He looked forward to meting out that jerk-off’s punishment later. In the meantime, he had a job to do. He signalled for the other two to pick the prisoner up and walked over once he was on his feet. 

Badly shaken though he was, Barton was also grateful the guards had walked in when they did. However, they didn't need to know that. He stared defiantly at the one obviously in charge in a very un-omega like way. But then he had always been a very unconventional omega.

“I know it won’t mean much but I’m sorry about that.” He sighed and his next words made the archer's blood run cold. “I’m also sorry to say that I don’t think your day’s going get any better."

He nodded for the others to take Barton away.


	7. Chapter 7

Coulson was lying on his side panting, his arms wrapped around himself, shivering and sweating, in absolute agony. He felt as though he was going through withdrawal. The serum was in full effect by now and he was painfully hard and in serious need of fucking someone, anyone, even just to take the edge off. He was already regretting having let the omega go. He bit his lip trying not to groan out loud as another wave of need rolled over him. He was burning up and desperate but he would not give in. He would not take advantage of some omega who was probably being experimented on as he was being. Even though they both needed release, it would still be non-consensual. And he was no rapist. Plus he wasn’t going to be filmed fucking anyone for the bitch behind the camera’s entertainment or research. She could go f...

Suddenly his head snapped back as he caught a familiar scent. Oh fuck no! Please no!

The door opened once again and another omega was thrown inside. Coulson’s face contorted in pain and his nails dug into his skin drawing thin crescents of blood as his body reacted to the new arrival. Barton. The one omega he would truly want to mate with if he had ever shown signs of wanting him, had been now given to him when he was at his most vulnerable.

Coulson’s cock gave an agonising throb as he breathed in the scent of him. For a few seconds his face clouded over as he picked up the trace of another alpha but it passed as Barton's familiar smell rolled over him. The thought of having the archer in his arms while he bit into the soft skin of his neck, pushing his cock inside him, fucking him...he groaned, finally unable to keep it contained.

Barton stared at the other man lying before him. Fuck! Coulson. And he smelled...Jesus fucking Christ! He smelled so good. Barton’s cock grew hard and he bit back a whimper. What the fuck? The specialist kept track of his boss’s ruts - unofficially of course - and he knew his handler wasn’t due for another month yet…and neither was he. So why the fuck was he so hard and beginning to feel dizzy and sweaty and finding it difficult to breathe. Apart from the fact Coulson smelled so damned amazing.

“Boss?”

Coulson groaned again and his body started to shake. He dug his nails into his skin again trying to focus on the here and now and not on the way Barton’s scent was beginning to change. The way it was beginning to smell so musky, so good. He growled low and deep.

The archer started to take a few steps towards him when Coulson snarled, “Stay the fuck away from me.”

Barton flinched more at the words than the tone. Even now, when Coulson was obviously in the early stages of a rut, when his need would be its greatest, he wanted nothing to do with an ex-circus brat. Well fuck him! As much as it hurt to be rejected like that, he wouldn’t give up on his handler. He wouldn’t crawl away to let him suffer on his own. Even if Coulson didn’t want to take him and mount him - and Barton shivered at the thought of it - he would be here for him. To talk to him. Look after him like all the times Coulson had done for him.

Barton retreated near to the door and slid down the wall and even though all he really wanted to do was wrap his arms, hell, wrap his body around his handler’s, he began to speak.


	8. Chapter 8

“Oh for _fuck_ sake,” spat the scientist beyond livid as she watched the interaction - or more accurately, the non-interaction between the two men. She’d had enough. Shoot the pair of them and mark it up to a bad experiment.

“If I may make a suggestion?” It was the senior guard who collected Barton.

The suit and the scientist turned to look at him with interest, eyebrows raised.

“Put another alpha in. See how he reacts.”

The scientist frowned thoughtfully as she calculated the scenarios in her head. A slow smile spread across her face. It was worth a shot. If nothing else it might get rid of her current problem.

“Do you have someone in mind remembering, of course, it could be easily be a suicide mission.”

The guard smirked. “I have the very person.”

She nodded. “Do it.”

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some graphic canon typical violence.

Barton’s quiet, familiar voice was in turns arousing and soothing. When Coulson was on a spike in his rut all he wanted to do was grab the archer, pin him down and fuck him hard but when he was in a lull, Barton’s soft mid-western twang helped the older man to relax through the shakes and pain. The irony of the role reversal wasn’t lost on either of them.

The main battle for Coulson, in fact for both of them, was Barton’s change in scent. It appeared his handler’s rut had triggered the specialist to go into heat and his scent was steadily growing thicker and muskier making it very apparent to both men. The archer could feel the slick beginning to dampen his hole meaning his fight was becoming every bit as demanding as Coulson’s. Where one was trying to control the urge to mount, the other was trying to control the need to be mounted.

And it was happening so quickly. All Barton wanted was for the older man’s cock to be inside him and then - please god - knot him. Occasionally he would pause in a story he was telling to get a metaphorical hold of himself. He hadn’t laid a literal hand on himself since he slid down the wall knowing him frantically jerking off would worsen the situation for both of them. Just as if Coulson was doing it. Oh fuck! He suddenly wished he didn’t have that image in his head. The senior agent’s elegant fingers wrapped round his dick sliding up and down his shaft...Barton moaned.

“You okay?” Coulson asked urgently, his back still to the archer. He’d finally begun to believe he might be able to get through this without touching Barton if he couldn’t see his face...or his anything else for that matter. But hearing him moan like that, he wondered if he was going to make it at all. He had to. Even though his cock ached and leaked, desperate for release, there could be no _if_...he _had_ to.

Barton let out a kind of strangled “Mmhmm. Need a moment” as he once again struggled against the urge to touch himself or worse, beg for Coulson to fuck him.

Coulson knew exactly what was happening and bit into his bottom lip hard enough for it to bleed. He desperately wanted to go to the younger man and let the consequences be damned but he couldn’t. As much as he wanted to fuck him into oblivion, to do it now, like this, with no choice in the matter - they might never recover from it and that was something Coulson wasn’t willing to risk. He closed his eyes and tried to think about something else, anything else. But it was getting more difficult with every wave that rolled over him.

Without warning the door was pushed opened then slammed shut again. Barton whimpered and pushed himself to his feet, back against the wall ready to defend himself as the alpha from his cell began to walk towards him unfastening his belt.

“Hey, bitch! Remember me? Fuck you smell so good! We got...” He whirled round, suddenly registering the scent of another alpha.

Pain be damned. With a terrifying growl, Coulson was off the floor placing himself between Barton and the intruder. The second alpha roared and made a lunge for Coulson but before he could complete the attack, the older man smashed his fist into his face knocking him to the ground with a shattered nose. He would have defended Barton in any case but this was the alpha he'd scented on the archer earlier making his blood lust rage.

Giving the man on the ground no chance to recover he placed one hand on his jaw, the other on the opposite side of his head.

“ _My_ omega,” he snarled and with one tremendous twist snapped the other man’s neck.

Adrenaline mixed with the serum finally pushed Coulson over the edge and he spun Barton round to face the wall to push him roughly against it. Breathing heavily, grabbing Barton’s wrists and holding them above his head, he pressed himself against the younger man’s body, moulding himself to his contours. His rigid cock nudged hard against the crease of Barton’s ass cheeks, not entering his hole but rubbing against it to be covered in the omega’s slick.

The scientist leaned forward in her chair absolutely fascinated as she watched. This is what she'd been hoping for and now that it was finally happening, it didn't disappoint. The guard’s idea of the second alpha was inspired and as opened her mouth to tell him exactly that, it was in that moment she sensed rather than felt the barrel of the gun millimetres from her neck.

“Those are my people you're fucking with down there. I want them back so how ‘bout you make it easy on yourself and tell me where they are before I shoot your sorry ass.”

The voice was very calm but the scientist could tell he was seconds away from putting a bullet in her head. In her peripheral vision she saw the slumped body of the suit in this chair to her left and let out a small gasp. She'd been so engrossed watching the events unfold before her, she'd been completely oblivious when the unknown man entered the room, despatched the suit and the senior guard along with two others to then stand silently beside her. She didn't hesitate.

“Cell nineteen.”

“Should I find out you're lying…”

“No. No. They're in nineteen. It's set up with the best surveillance cameras and angles to view the experiment.”

A gloved hand and leather clad arm reached across her to turn off the monitor.

"The fuck d'you do?" he demanded, his voice tight. He was barely holding his own anger in check.

"We're experimenting with forced rutting in alphas to determine its affects and its potential as a weapon against the enemy."

"You'd do _that_ to your soldiers?" 

The scientist shook her head. "No. We'd do that to yours." 

“You're one sick motherfucker, you know that?” He didn't flinch as he pulled the trigger covering the screen in a fine mist of blood.

“Widow, Hill. Cell nineteen. And Hill, you're gonna have to tranc your boy."

"What? Say again, sir," Hill responded, sounding confused.

"He's been forced into a rut...and he's in a cell with Barton who's not exactly objecting. In fact, Romanoff, you might have to tranc Barton's ass too if you wanna separate them."

Hill and Romanoff exchanged looks then bolted along the corridor. Under different circumstances they'd be delighted the two men had finally, after years of pining for each other, resolved their UST but they knew Coulson would never forgive himself if he believed he had forced himself on the younger man. If he was in a rut with Barton before receiving his express permission, that's exactly how he would see it even if the archer was acting favourably. And they had no doubts he'd be acting _very_ favourably.

"And I suggest getting a shift on. Things might just have stepped up a notch. Good luck to both of you cuz trust me, there are some things you just can't un-see.” The last part was muttered darkly as Fury caught a glimpse of his two agents in another monitor before he walked away.

***

“Is this what you want?” Coulson growled into Barton's ear, low and filthy, rolling his hips to brush his cock against Barton's seeping hole.

Barton moaned thickly in response as more slick ran down his thighs.

“Tell me, Clint…”


	10. Chapter 10

“...is this what you want?” the alpha repeated.

Clint whined pushing his ass back against Phil’s cock coating him in his slick. Jesus! What that alpha voice and scent were doing to him. The feel of the other man's hot, hard body pressing against him was amazing making him feel desired and safe. His dick throbbed and leaked at the heady combination almost overloading his senses. Shit! The anticipation was fucking killing him.

“Fuck yes, it’s what I want. So stop talking, Phil and fucking knot me.” 

Phil shivered and growled his pleasure at receiving his omega's permission. Finally, and with deliberate slowness, he pushed inside his mate making Clint groan in relief. He pulled back, almost all the way just so as the head of his cock was all that was inside the archer, then thrust back in again harder this time. The slight raise of his knot dragged over the sensitive skin of Clint's hole and the younger man let out a noise that was a mix of whimper and moan. Phil’s breath hitched. It was a beautiful sound, one which the older man never believed he’d be fortunate enough to hear.

Much as he had done back in the cell, Phil held both of Clint’s wrists above his head against the wall but this time there were no cameras, there was no-one watching. It was just the two of them, safe in a S.H.I.E.L.D. facility where Maria and Natasha had taken them, _after_ putting the pair out with tranq darts. Fury had been right about that!

Phil dropped his mouth to the younger man’s shoulder to nip and suck at the skin pulling yet another filthy groan from him. The muscles of his back flexed under the older man's touch.

“Oh fuck! Please, Phil. _Please_ ,” Clint wasn’t sure what he was begging for; release maybe or perhaps for it never to stop.

“My omega,” Phil told him, the softness of his tone at odds with every powerful roll of his hips as he fucked into the archer over and over. It was taking all Clint's self-control to let the pleasure build up inside him and not come too quickly no matter how much he wanted to. He smiled as he twisted his head round to return the sentiment to his alpha and kiss the older man before turning back again to enjoy every thrust. 

Once again Phil's lips and teeth sought out the curve of Clint’s neck to mouth the skin making the archer, _his_ archer, cry out not from pain but from the intense feelings that washed over him. He wasn't near the bonding gland - not this time - but it still made the younger man shudder as he was claimed every other way. 

Without breaking his rhythm, Phil let go of Clint's wrists sliding one hand down the firm muscles of the omega's arm to his shoulder, the other he dropped to Clint's hip tightening his grasp as he thrust harder and faster. Clint panted and moaned as the head of Phil's thick cock hit his prostrate every time with incredible regularity. It wasn't long before that prickling sensation, teetering between pleasure/pain, appeared signalling his nearness. Clint reached between his legs to gather some slick before curling his fingers around his shaft in a firm grip to slide up and down his length in fast, tight strokes. The keening sounds that Clint was making were driving the alpha closer and closer to the edge and he knew it wouldn't be long before the orgasm would take him.

It didn't take much, just a few more hard thrusts from Phil and strokes from his own hand until Clint came with a loud cry, his cock striping come over his stomach and the wall, the rest spilling over his fist. The alpha was seconds behind him, pulsing inside his omega with a long, drawn out moan through gritted teeth, the muscles of his back and shoulders straining as his body finally satisfied the urge to mate. Both men trembled with after shocks, Phil continuing long after Clint stilled. Eventually, Phil rested his head on Clint's shoulder, blanketing his body around his omega as the base of the alpha's cock swelled, his knot tying them together. 

This would be the first of many couplings over several days; the early ones, frantic and at times almost brutal lasting mere minutes, the others being slow and intimate as the pair learned each other's bodies, revelling in the sounds each of them uttered eagerly making up for all the time that had been lost. In between, the alpha would take care of his omega: feeding him; bathing him; stroking his back and shoulders, his chest and belly, his thighs and buttocks with a light and gentle caress; holding him gently as he told him how much the omega was loved and treasured.

Neither Phil nor Clint would never have the words for Maria and Natasha to thank them for this. For convincing them, once they recovered from the sedatives, that their feelings were not one sided. If it hadn't been for their betas, this opportunity would have been lost and they would still be apart, suffering through the agony of rut and heat. But no longer - the alpha and the omega finally together.


End file.
